


Back to the Beginning

by StrapOnBilbo (cuddlyoctopus)



Series: Hobbit for all Seasons [1]
Category: OTP: One True Pairing (Web Series), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, BotFA fixit, Canon-Typical Violence, Everybody Lives, F/M, M/M, No Character Death, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Time Travel, dream - Freeform, no beta we die like enbies, traditional Tolkien verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlyoctopus/pseuds/StrapOnBilbo
Summary: Bilbo Baggins wakes up the morning after the Battle of Five Armies to find himself magically back in his Hobbit hole, before the whole thing even began. He writes it off as a dream, but then startling familiar things begin to happen.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Series: Hobbit for all Seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096166
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	Back to the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction, so please be gentle if you can.

Bilbo woke up slowly, surprised to find he was warm and sleeping on something soft. He had fallen asleep underground in the Lonely Mountain but he could clearly feel warm sun on his face. He felt anxious. Why had he moved in the night? But what greeted his eyes when he opened them was even more shocking than he could imagine. His familiar, cozy bedroom at Bag End. He slowly inspected himself. The shirt he was wearing was gently worn, not ragged from months on the road and multiple battles. He didn't have the various scars, calluses, etc. that he had accumulated on the journey either. After a few minutes of disorientation, he decided that it must have been an absurd dream and that he had to put it quite firmly behind him. He felt his heart flutter unpleasantly at the thought that Thorin was just a dream, but then realized that at least this meant he wasn't really dead and felt better. He got up and put the kettle on, puttering around the kitchen (in it's tidy pre-dwarf state), making a classic hobbit breakfast.

Later that morning, he went outside to bask in the sun and have smoke while still thinking about his odd dream. It was unusual for it to still be so heavy on his mind this late in the day. When he saw a familiar towering grey figure, he choked on the smoke. "Gandalf?!" he exclaimed when the coughing had subsided enough for him to speak.  
"Ah, good. I wasn't sure you'd remember me."

"How could I not remember you?" Bilbo began, thinking of his dream at first before deliberately changing where his words were going. "How could I forget your wonderful fireworks?"

"Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks."

That set off a great deal of deja vu in Bilbo and he didn't quite know what to say to that, feeling that he'd be written off as delusional if he revealed his dream. So he waited and Gandalf continued.

"I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure that I'm arranging."

Bilbo froze. It couldn't possibly be. Maybe this was another dream. But he took the chance.

"Well that will be me then," Bilbo said with a little smile.

"Ah good. I was worried you'd spent too much time sitting indoors and wouldn't want to go."

"Oh, I know you wouldn't leave me to such a fate! Not when I was always looking for adventure when I was little!"

"Hm. Well good. That's good."

"I'd better pack, right? And clean my house up for the journey?" Bilbo said, stumbling back into his house so that Gandalf could mark the door.

Gandalf gave him a questioning look as if he expected him to resist and was wondering if his awkwardness and haste to get inside were Bilbo trying to get away and escape adventure without outright rejecting it to Gandalf's face.

"Really, I'm very busy. See you later, Gandalf." It wasn't until he shut the door that he caught his mistake. How could he have possibly known he would see Gandalf later? He stood with his back to the door for a minute, listening to Gandalf scratch a Dwarven rune into the door with a nail, before fleeing deeper into the house to hide his valuables and fragile items and prepare enough food for 13 hungry dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit. He even went to the market for more ingredients (though he was resolute not to buy any more ale, wine, or spirits of any kind than he already had in the house). 

By the time evening rolled around, he had roasted a number of chickens with squash and potatoes, fried up as many fish as he could get his hands on, and baked a wide variety of cakes and pies. He laid out cheese, tomatoes, pickles, fresh bread, and every good thing he could think of. He had ale and wine standing by and the kettle was on for tea and coffee. Everything was nicely arranged by the time the first of the Dwarves arrived.

This was Dwalin. He was balding, but with a beard enough to make up for it, dressed in armor and with scars across his face. He expected supper and Bilbo felt a flutter in his breast over the familiarity and how exactly this matched his dream. He tried not to think of the possibility of Thorin also being real. Instead he focused on welcoming Dwalin and enjoying seeing him again. Dwalin was a bit brusque, since he didn't know Bilbo at all at this point, but that was ok. He was more worried about how much the dwarf was eating before the others had even arrived. Everything left in the larder would be needed for breakfast. 

"This is all of the food I have, so save enough for the others", he said sternly.

Dwalin grunted at him, but slowed down a bit.

When there was a knock on the door, he was scurrying to get it before Dwalin could say "that'll be the door." He was eager to see Balin.

Bilbo was not at all surprised when he opened the door to find a white bearded dwarf on the stoop, saying "Balin, at your service." And Bilbo welcomed him warmly.

"Am I late?" Balin asked, looking slightly concerned.

“Not at all! You’re only the second here!” Bilbo replied, ushering him through to the dining room.

“Well I’m sure the rest will be here soon.” Balin’s face brightened up as soon as he saw his baby brother was already there.

Bilbo busied himself with brewing coffee while the brothers reunited, but was soon interrupted again by the door.

When Bilbo opened the door to find Fili and Kili, he almost wept. He tried to school his features, but failed miserably and the Dwarves gave him matching confused looks.

“You must be Mr. Boggins,” Kili offered, which made Bilbo smile. He stretched out his hand to Kili, saying “Baggins. Bilbo Baggins. Welcome to Bag end!” and shaking first Kili and then Fili warmly by the hand. “Come in! Come in! There’s much to eat and talk about. Make yourselves comfortable!” It was surreal seeing them alive and well after seeing their bloody and broken bodies just one day before (in his perspective). They seemed happy and excited to be there, joining Balin and Dwalin in the dining room. They greeted their compatriots merrily and began to pile their plates with food.

As Bilbo carried their swords and various weapons to the entryway, the bell rang. He made sure to step well out of the way as eight more Dwarves tumbled into the house. And from then all was bustle and commotion. Dori found a teapot and began brewing a pot of chamomile, Bombur found the cheese, and Bofur found the hams. Bilbo flitted from dwarf to dwarf, making sure everyone had their favorite things to eat and drink. Gandalf enquired about the remaining dwarf and Bilbo’s heart stuttered. Thorin. The name hadn’t been said, but he knew in his heart that this was who they were all waiting for. Dwalin mentioned that Thorin had been traveling north and Bilbo hung on his every word, wanting more news of Thorin Oakensheild, his unrequited love and the leader of the Company. Gandalf looked carefully at Bilbo, as the dwarves tore apart his house and feasted on just about everything he had.

“You’re handling this well. I suppose I chose right, You are ripe for adventure.”

“Yes indeed, Gandalf,” Bilbo said smiling. “This will be just the thing!”

Gandalf made a gruff “Hmmm!” noise and returned his attention to the dwarves...and keeping his tiny glass of red wine full.

Bilbo sat in a corner, sipping a cup of chamomile to soothe his nerves and waited. Rolls, tomatoes, and boiled eggs flew past his head, unnoticed. He didn’t even complain when the dwarves began a game of catch with his dishes. The only thing on his mind was the dwarven king. They sang an unfamiliar song as they worked to tidy up the dirty dishes.

And there it was, the familiar heavy pounding on the door that he’d been waiting for since he’d woken up in Bag End. “Thorin,” he thought to himself, breath held and heart beating out of his chest.

He ran to the door and briefly steeled himself before opening it. The smoldering dwarf looked down to him with big eyes that reminded Bilbo of a mournful puppy. They stood, staring at each other for a long moment, eye contact unbroken until Gandalf interrupted. Bilbo shook himself and reminded him that he didn’t know Thorin (outside of the world of dreaming) and he must be acting quite strangely. He shoved his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from offending the dwarven king by touching him (“We aren’t friends!” he harshly reminded himself) only to suddenly realize that in all the commotion, he’d never changed out of his dressing gown. Bilbo flushed and Thorin must have inferred the cause of his embarrassment because he gave Bilbo a soft smile. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, squeezing Bilbo’s arm as he walked by, following Gandalf into the kitchen. Bilbo was stuck speechless, still holding the door open, unable to move for a moment. When he came to himself, he rushed to the kitchen to make sure  
Thorin had everything he needed.

The mood in the dining room was quite altered since Bilbo had left to answer the door. Everyone was respectfully subdued, waiting for Thorin to eat so that the serious business of the night could commence.  
As Thorin tucked in to his well deserved supper, He looked Bilbo in the eye and asked, “Axe or sword, what’s your preferred weapon?”

“Sword and if I can get one the right size for me, I’m not bad. Not bad at all,” Bilbo replied.

Gandalf looked at him sharply, but Thorin just nodded and continued demolishing most of a roast chicken. The others began questioning him about his journey to the North and the quest, but Bilbo was content to just drink Thorin in, occasionally going to the kitchen to get something new to tempt him, but mostly just attempting to sate his poor, queer heart with looking from his seat beside him.

He listened carefully to the explanation of the quest this time, knowing he’d be going too and wanting to know if anything was different or not. He didn’t know which to hope for. The Dwarves seemed somewhat impressed with his understanding of Dwarven history and lack of fear regarding orcs, dragons, and the rest. Meanwhile, Bilbo found it difficult to be afraid, knowing he’d survive and that he’d already been through these ordeals.

Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh (and he tried to turn it into a cough, he really did) when Kili speculated about how many dragons Gandalf had slain and it earned him smiles from the other Dwarves and a small smile and a nudge from Thorin.

When Ori cried out “that’s why we need a burglar!” Bilbo was only too happy to reply that they’d need an expert burglar and tried to play it like he didn’t know they were talking about him, but more than a few of the dwarves took this as boasting. He smiled, thinking that he should have remembered their reactions. This time around, however, he claimed the title of burglar happily, fondly remembering Thorin and the others calling him “master burglar” and “our burglar” and so forth.

“Well I have stolen a few precious things from dangerous and determined people before,” he said, thinking of the magical ring, arkenstone, and a few other things along the way. The Dwarves nodded, seeming to think that it was none of their business what alleged crimes he had committed in the past, only if he had the skill to bring them their futures.

Still a few of the dwarves spoke up against him, calling him a grocer, a gentleman, and helpless. The last struck him rather hard this time, knowing he had saved all their lives more than once. But soon Gandalf spoke up for him (and for his choice of him) and he felt much better. At least Gandalf believed in him and Thorin looked quite swayed. His voice was much warmer this time as he said, “we’ll do it your way” and Bilbo felt a sharp pain in his chest. Thorin believed in him! He’d be traveling with them all for more than year! And he’d have the chance to save Thorin. And Fili and Kili his traitorous heart reminded him, sending a wave of guilt over him for initially only thinking of the man he loved, when he should be trying to protect all his friends. His heart beat wildly as he thought of the future.

Balin leaned over and whispered, “are you alright, you look a million miles away.” He laughed at his own phrasing and said, “well I suppose you were really. We all must be,” referring to the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo tried to relax and gave him a small smile. “Thank you, I just got lost in my thoughts for a minute. He gave Balin’s hand a quick friendly squeeze before turning back to Thorin.

...who he was surprised to find was giving him an impenetrable look. So Bilbo jumped back into the conversation with a question about quest logistics to break the spell and divert Thorin’s mind from whatever was troubling him to more practical matters.

Bilbo hardly stopped to read the contract at all before signing it with a pen and ink, he just so happened to have on the sideboard. Not at all because of some surreal dream or vision or magical quest back in time. No, not at all. He looked up from signing it, only to see Thorin amused and pleased by his eagerness and lack of hesitation. He smiled back at him candidly and flirtily said, “What can I say? I’m a hobbit who knows exactly what I want.” Thorin blinked a bit and looked away, turning to Gandalf and softly said, “I cannot guarantee his safety, nor can I be responsible for his fate.” Bilbo blushed at the soft, caring tone. Gandalf looked at Bilbo and he felt like the wizard could see inside his very soul. Without the context of Bilbo’s foreknowledge, Gandalf knew his feelings. It was embarrassing. His feelings were inexplicable without that context. It wasn’t just lust he felt, and there was a great deal of lust there, but he also had a great deal of romantic and friendly feeling, an attachment which made no sense having just met an hour previously. When Gandalf replied, “understood,” to Thorin, he was looking at Bilbo and it felt like Gandalf understood far too much about the inner workings of his heart.

When Boffur started to try to scare him with tales of the dragon, Bilbo took it as a welcome distraction from staring at the mountain of man muscle sitting beside him. He laughed, remembering fainting at the mere mention of danger and then going through it all with comparatively little panic.

“Don’t worry,” Gandalf began, “I remember a young hobbit who was always running off in search of elves in the woods. A young hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what is beyond the borders of the Shire. Bilbo is exactly the 14th your Company needs.”

“You know, my great-great-great-great uncle, Bullroarer Took charged the goblin ranks in the Battle of Greenfields? He swung his club so hard that it knocked the Goblin King’s head clean off. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. He won that battle. My last name may be Baggins, but I’m also a Took and we Tooks are different than other hobbits. We don’t shrink from adventure. Some even say there’s a bit of fairy blood in our veins and that’s what draws us out into the world.” He realized after he said it that the part about the fairy lineage might make him sound like a wimp, but he stood by his words and steadfastly refused to start nervously babbling.

Gandalf gave him an approving nod. “You’ll have a family legend or two to add to the Took-Baggins oeuvre when you come back.” Bilbo’s heart practically glowed at the approval. He didn’t bother to ask Gandalf if he was certain he’d come back this time. Thorin was the only one that mattered. Thorin and their friends.

As Thorin continued speaking of the Company, “loyalty, honor, a willing heart,” his eyes met Bilbo’s on that those last words and he felt for a moment that Thorin was speaking directly to him, asking if his heart was willing and available. Then Bilbo shook the thought out of his head. Thorin couldn’t have any feelings for him. If he ever would, it couldn’t be till after the final battle. Otherwise Bilbo would remember. Still, it strengthened his resolve to protect the king from any kind of harm and he felt emboldened.

The meeting concluded with a somber song, sung by all the dwarves together. This one was familiar to him from the first time around and he listened reverently as he made up beds for everyone on chairs and sofas. He tried to let Thorin have his own four poster bed, but Thorin wouldn’t hear of it, choosing instead to bed down in an armchair by the fireplace and Bilbo knew that the armchair would now be his favorite, no matter what happened over the following year. Bilbo fell asleep to the sound of a few remaining dwarves humming, as he lay in the dark pretending Thorin was beside him instead of a couple rooms away.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far, thank you so much. I love all y'all.


End file.
